


Obelus

by theemdash



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Feelings, First War with Voldemort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Manipulative Peter, Marauders, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-01-23 10:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12505392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theemdash/pseuds/theemdash
Summary: The lines dividing Sirius's life have always been clear—Gryffindors vs Slytherins, Death Eaters vs the Order, Sirius vs Blacks, Marauders vs Everyone Else. When Regulus comes to Sirius, the lines begin to blur, and even as his relationship with Remus deepens, he's never felt more alone.





	Obelus

**Author's Note:**

> The character death is canon and off-screen, so if you read the character list, you know who bites it.  
> This story grew out of me wondering how Sirius and Remus could have been together during the war, but suspected each other of being the spy by the end. Written as part of Team Sirius for Remus/Sirius Games 2017  
> Many thanks to sopdetly for her encouragement, beta skills, and superior Quidditch knowledge.  
>  **Prompt:** "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." - from the novel _Pride and Prejudice_ by Jane Austen

Boots thumped against the ground, a headlong sprint through Muggle London. If Sirius weren't out of breath, he'd shout that he'd never felt more alive. Fighting Death Eaters never failed to pump his adrenaline, no matter how close the calls, or how often he had his friends' blood on his hands. He'd never been one to sit back and let things come.

He ducked instinctively, sensing the spell before he felt its heat zing past his shoulder. Common sense told him to turn, sight where the next spell was coming from, but if he did he'd lose his lead. He was fast on his feet—faster if he was a dog—but three to one odds were not in his favor and he wasn't reckless enough to take them on without aid.

"Reconnaissance," Dumbledore had said, "do not engage them," but ol' Albus hadn't thought the choice would be between acting or watching a gaggle of Death Eaters torture a Muggle-born and his family. The Death Eaters had popped in on the street and blasted a hole in their wall—right in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood. They'd need Obliviators in to clean things up.

He kept running, glad to see all three Death Eaters had taken the bait. Remus could have handled one while he protected the family, but it was just as well he could tend to them and send off a message to the Order without the added distraction. All Sirius had to do was keep running—and keep dodging—until the cavalry arrived. Except not actual cavalry unless Peter rode in on James like he did that one time in the Forbidden Forest. Ha, that had been a laugh.

The storefront beside Sirius exploded, brick and glass pelting him and knocking him into the road. He narrowly rolled out of the way of an oncoming car, wand up, throwing hexes back at the Death Eaters.

Obliviators. So many. And that was assuming they could contain all the witnesses. Mad-Eye was going to give him such a lecture.

He bolted for the park, hoping the trees would offer a little more coverage and the Muggles would assume it was a lightshow or fireworks. Fireworks in the park, wouldn't that be lovely? Reclining on a blanket with his arm around Moony and watching twinkling explosions in the night sky—as alive as he felt, he couldn't deny he'd prefer that evening.

He crashed through a hedge, snapping winter-worn twigs and swiping away blood from his cheek. He tripped over a rock, turned his descent into a messy somersault through melted snow, probably ruining his leather jacket and white t-shirt, and once again wished to shift into Padfoot. As Padfoot he wouldn't feel wet fabric clinging to his chest.

One of the Death Eaters broke through the hedge, silver mask gleaming. Sirius got off a stunner, hitting him square in the chest while he gathered his bearings, but the spell gave away Sirius's position. A flash of red off to his right was all the warning he had to roll and flatten himself on the ground. The spell sailed over his head, impacting a tree. He'd laugh, but he was still out of breath.

He got a shield up to block the next spell, but they had him on the defensive, the two remaining Death Eaters advancing from either side of the hedge—they'd gone around the thing instead of through it, how clever.

Outnumbered and cornered was not a good look on Sirius Black. He backed up, glancing about for cover or anything he could use to his advantage. A copse of trees was only a few feet away. If he could get there, he might be able to get to the underbrush and shift long enough to lose them. Not the bravest strategy, but getting away alive was the priority.

Believe it or not, sometimes Sirius understood priorities.

He fired off a bright spell, something more to distract them than injure, and bolted for the trees. The spell, unfortunately, was bright enough to kill his night vision and he went sprawling over a root, once again wishing for his canine senses. His wand slipped from his fingers, skittering ahead of him. He heard where it fell, and he reached for it, but there were too many other twigs on the ground, blinding him to which one was carved with runes.

"Black!"

He ducked—instinctively—at the sound of his name, but the spell still caught his right shoulder, tearing into his flesh and leaving his arm bloody. He cried out as he fell forward, still one-handedly fishing for his wand because if he couldn't find it, he'd be dead.

"Sirius Black," the Death Eater said, his voice muffled behind the mask. "Scrabbling on the ground. How fitting."

The sneer cut through Sirius's pain, and he latched on to the indignation. Scrabbling? Sirius? Not a chance.

His fingers clasped around the hilt of his wand, the magic singing through his veins, and he rolled to his back, slashing the air with a vicious severing hex. The Death Eater in front of him screamed and grabbed at the front of his robes. His mask was cut, a thin scar running from his chin to his forehead, right over his eye. Who was scrabbling now?

Sirius got to his feet, wand pointed at the other Death Eater. "Do you have anything clever you'd like to say?"

A bright, blue-white light engulfed his vision and for a moment Sirius was convinced he died, but then he could see through the translucent shield.

The figures beyond the shield were warped, stretched thin like the still skeletal trees, but he could identify the black shapes of the two Death Eaters and two other figures beyond and running closer. Sirius was sure one of them was Remus from his wandwork.

One of the Death Eaters ran, his retreat followed by the pop of Apparation. The second Death Eater followed a moment later—apparently he didn't like three to one odds any more than Sirius did.

Sirius sagged, the adrenaline in his system finally ebbing. He sat on the ground, his head pounding and shoulder throbbing. His stomach rolled, a nauseated wave, but it passed as quickly as it had come on.

"Sirius!" Remus ran towards him, kneeling and skidding in the leaves. "Padfoot." He hugged Sirius to him and then pulled away sharply. "You're hurt."

"Only just," Sirius said tiredly. "You should see the other guy."

"I did. You could have killed that one."

Sirius groaned when Remus tugged his jacket off one sleeve at a time. (He was a little gentler with the injured arm, at least.) "No better than he deserves." 

Remus made a disapproving noise and then tore the sleeve of Sirius's t-shirt up to the neck.

"Moony. Don't you want to wait until we're at home?"

It was too dark for Sirius to see Remus roll his eyes, but he knew what expression was on his boyfriend's face. He knew all of Remus's reactions intimately.

"Oi, Sirius, three Death Eaters were following you, right?" James crouched a few feet away, near the bushes where Sirius entered.

"Yeah. I stunned one. Should be over there somewhere." Sirius fingered the holes in his ruined jacket. Actually, the rips were cool, kind of punk, maybe he could enlarge some safety pins to keep it from literally falling apart. Not like he needed it for warmth the way the spring was coming on.

James stood, took a few steps one way and then the other before leaning over and reaching into the bushes. He held up a silver mask, the eyes exaggerated with dark circles and the mouth an open slash. The twisting filigree reminded Sirius of the Black Family Crest, just another reminder of his family's loyalties. 

"I take it there's no face to go with that mask."

"No body either," James said to Remus. "Must have run off with the others."

Remus murmured softly, the tip of his wand glowing as he stitched Sirius's skin. It was a spell Sirius had learned for moons and taught to Remus for Death Eater attacks. If they hadn't all learned healing spells they would spend all their time in St. Mungo's, and as far as Sirius was concerned, Healers had difficulty distinguishing family from blood relations.

"We should report in. I take it the Muggle family's okay?" Sirius tried to sit up, but Remus held him in place with a firm hand. 

"I'm not done."

"Everyone's fine," James answered. "Alice stayed with them while we tracked you." He kicked at the ground and then squatted again. The knees of James's jeans were caked with dirt and crushed leaves.

"Alice?" It usually wouldn't be a surprise, only Sirius had been with Peter earlier and he'd mentioned he was going to be with James tonight. If anyone else had come from the Order, he had expected Wormtail would accompany James.

"Better?" Remus asked. The gashes were sealed and the throbbing in Sirius's shoulder had turned into a dull ache. He rotated the shoulder experimentally, but Remus's healing spells were nearly as precise as Sirius's.

"You work magic," he deadpanned.

"I need to get back to the Order to get Lily. Frank needs to know where to find Alice, too."

"Obliviators," Sirius chimed in. "The Death Eaters were not so concerned about the Statute of Secrecy."

James rubbed his brow, looking so much older than they all were. "Right. You should go home. Get cleaned up and rest. I can report back to Mad-Eye."

Sirius pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the too-quick motion. "Hang on a mo', I'm perfectly capable of reporting—"

"Sirius." Remus didn't need to clarify where he stood on the argument. The slant of his mouth and the blood smeared on his chin and cardigan said everything. Even though Sirius didn't classify it as a close call, Moony did.

"I can fill Mad-Eye in," James reiterated. "You need to go home." His eyes widened and flicked over to Remus, a reminder that when it came to Sirius's well being, he always deferred to Remus. Quite the switch from how things were in school. "Want the souvenir?" James tossed the Death Eater mask into Sirius's bobbling hands. The blank face looked back at him, a symbol of everything Sirius hated about himself.

"I don't—" he started to say, but James was already backing away and talking over him.

"Alice had the family covered, so I'll check back in with her first. I'll stop by tomorrow, all right?"

"We'll see you tomorrow," Remus confirmed, and then James was gone with a pop. 

"I'm not _dying_." Sirius nearly dropped the mask back on the ground, but he couldn't stand the thought that a kid might find it and think it was cool. When he was eleven, he probably would have worn it to scare the pants off Slytherins. 

"No, but you were chased by Death Eaters and suffered an injury. I think that's more than enough for one night." Remus threaded his fingers through Sirius's to hold his hand tightly. "Think you can Apparate?" 

Sirius squeezed Remus's hand back. It wasn't often that they held hands in public. He missed this part of relationships. "Yes, but if it makes you feel better, I can Side-Along."

"Good man," Remus said fondly. He kissed Sirius's cheek, tightened his grip, and then Sirius's whole body was being squeezed as they traveled by magic to their flat. Remus Apparated them just inside the door, right past their magical barriers.

"You want help with your shirt?"

The shirt was hanging on to Sirius by one shoulder. Another casualty in this sodding war. "No, I'm not bleeding any more—shite. I am." Sirius checked himself again to make sure he hadn't been Splinched coming past their barriers. 

"Dammit." Remus cursed as softly as if he was just telling Sirius the owl post had been delivered. He carefully helped Sirius out of the shirt and then got the bandages, cleaning the wound and then wrapping it.

"Just like after the moon," Sirius lightly joked. 

"Almost, yeah." Remus traced the outside edge of one of the worst gashes. It hadn't opened up, but would probably leave a nice scar. Sirius was catching up with Remus in the scar count. But if Remus treated Sirius the same way Sirius treated him, it would just be a new path for him to kiss, a new reminder that they had something to live for.

Remus shook his head. "I should've gone with you."

"Someone needed to stay behind. We didn't know they'd all chase me."

"They always do," Remus sighed. 

More than once Sirius had expected that phenomena had to do with his family members recognizing him, but he didn't have any proof other than his whole family tree supporting the same pureblood drivel as Voldemort. If he hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor, would he have been there, right alongside the Death Eaters?

"I don't know why James gave you that." 

Sirius held up the Death Eater mask, still clutched in one hand. He'd almost forgotten that he had it.

"Padfoot?" Remus titled his head, a worried crease forming in his brow. "Are you all right? You’ve hardly said anything."

Sirius took a deep breath. "I guess you and James were right. I'm feeling light-headed." He turned the mask over in his hands, trying not to think about what it must feel like to look out of the hollow eyes and be so anonymous that even your family can't recognize you. 

"Let's get you into bed."

"You'll lie down with me?" Sirius hopefully asked.

Remus smiled softly, ducking his head. "Of course." He kneeled to help Sirius out of his boots, and then set both pairs by the door, opening them up so they'd properly air out. He hung up Sirius's battered jacket and his own bloodied cardigan; they'd deal with them later.

Remus led them to the bedroom, and then helped Sirius out of his clothes and got him into bed. Remus hesitated before disrobing as well—maybe he'd been thinking about reporting in to the Order after getting Sirius settled. He got under the covers behind Sirius, carefully wrapping his arms around his chest. He kissed Sirius's injured shoulder.

"Would've died if I'd lost you."

Sirius closed his eyes, thinking of how many times he'd had the same thought—every moon since they were seventeen, maybe; maybe even longer than that, though before then he hadn't known how he felt about Remus. 

"I'm still here, Moony." Sirius pulled Remus's hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. He wanted to turn to face Moony, but he didn't think he should put any weight on his injured shoulder.

"You shouldn't be allowed to scare me like that."

Sirius shook with a chuckle. "I'm not actually, but you know how I feel about rules."

Remus chuckled as well, shifted, and pressed a kiss to Sirius's cheek. "I should know better, huh?"

"Yes, you should."

"Padfoot," Remus whispered, a broken whimper hiding in the back of his throat. They were allowed to be weak in front of each other. They were allowed to cry. They never did, but they almost cried plenty of times. 

Sirius turned, meeting Remus halfway, and they kissed, losing themselves in the feel of their boyfriend's lips and the warm, calming feeling of being home. Sirius didn't need the reminder that Remus was his family, but every time they kissed, it was there.

* * *

"Where the hell is Wormtail?" Sirius muttered. He blew into his hands, wishing he hadn't given up Muggle cigarettes for Moony. It wasn't that he particularly liked smoking, but they'd given him something to do if he was waiting for someone. Now his options were to pace or to pick at the safety pins in his leather jacket. Either action made him look petulant and annoyed, which wasn't the aloof persona he wanted to project.

Also, the evening wind was cutting through the holes in his stupid jacket. Damn Death Eaters, ruining perfectly good leather.

He turned, intending to pace the length of the Muggle pub again when he nearly ran into someone. "Sorry," he said as he took a step back, and then recognized his brother. "What are you doing here?"

Regulus had both hands in his pockets, a great coat, recently brushed and exactly the sort of thing the Heir of the House of Black should be wearing—Muggle enough to pass the Statue of Secrecy, but clearly Wizard fashion. There was probably a compartment where he could slide his wand, which was undoubtedly what he was curling his fingers around now.

"It's London, not the Gryffindor common room."

Sirius rolled his eyes, the wand stuffed up the sleeve of his jacket little comfort. "It's Muggle London. In front of a pub I frequent, actually, which I'm certain you know since I haven't made it secret and I know Death Eaters have been following me."

"You make yourself sound much more important than you are, Sirius."

"And you sound like much more of a prig—wait, no, you sound exactly like the prig you are."

Regulus's mouth shifted into a slant, the same half-annoyed, half-disappointed look Sirius had seen too many times on their father's face. "I wasn't looking for a fight."

"No? Were you looking for someone to bully, then? Or threaten? I understand you have a new tattoo." He spat the word, disgusted that his little brother had sided with the Death Eaters. He'd known he wouldn't convince anyone else in his family to fight against Voldemort, but he'd hoped at least Regulus wouldn't fight for him.

"I had to," he said, but the disappointment was wiped from his face, replaced with something like steel. "You have no idea what it's been like since you left."

"I know what it was like when I lived there." Pureblood propaganda, the debasement of Muggles and half-bloods, the way things were when Mother was a young witch—Sirius could practically recite the lectures. He might have been driven off by all of that, but he couldn't wash it from his mind.

Regulus shifted towards the building—Sirius reached for his wand—but a couple staggered past in the open space Regulus had created. Politeness, that was a thing Sirius had been taught alongside hatred for half-breeds and blood traitors.

"I didn't come to complain about our family," Regulus said. Now that they were standing closer together, Sirius realized a light sheen of sweat glazed Regulus's forehead. His skin was pale, paler than normal, wind-blown red drained from his cheeks even though the late winter chill still clung to the air.

"So you did come for me."

"Sirius." Regulus balled his fist, showing something of the little brother Sirius remembered. One time, when their mother had swatted Sirius for running in the house, he'd gotten angry and locked Regulus in the garden and then watched from a window as Regulus balled his fists, standing in the middle of the yard and glaring at his laughing older brother. He'd stayed outside most of the evening and into the cool night, but he never ratted out Sirius. It was almost admirable.

"We're on opposite sides of a war, Reg." He didn't think he'd have to remind Regulus, not with that black mark branding his forearm.

Regulus's eyes darted to the sidewalk—it wasn't empty but it was near enough, especially as far away as they were from the door. "Our sides might not be as opposite as you think," he whispered, practically tripping over the words. He grabbed Sirius's wrist, his eyes suddenly wide. Sirius had never seen Regulus look so scared. "The Dark Lord has terrible plans. Sirius, I can't—"

A crash of rubbish bins in the alley startled him a step back from Sirius—probably just a cat chasing off a rat, but Regulus looked whiter than usual. Sirius could understand why given what he'd already said, all things Sirius couldn't quite believe as his mind filled in the blanks, forgotten hope sparking in his chest.

"What were you saying?" Sirius grabbed his brother's still extended hand, wanting to believe him, wanting to hear the rest. 

"Nothing," Regulus said quickly—loudly, like he was trying to convince someone else.

Sirius kept his voice low. "I can take you somewhere safe."

Regulus shook his head. "No. You're the only one I can trust. I know you. I know you wouldn't—" He broke off again at another crash in the alley. "I shouldn't have come."

"Reg." Sirius tugged him closer, suddenly desperate to keep Regulus here, even though he already felt like he was clinging to sand. "My flat. Just us. I promise. It's warded."

He turned to the alley again, taking another step away. "After," Regulus said. "Assuming I don't die. I'll have the proof I need."

"After what?"

Regulus met Sirius's gaze, the same gray eyes looking back at him. There were differences, yeah, but Sirius could see the family resemblance, even more so now that Regulus's eyes were shocked open with fear. He hugged Sirius tightly, arms wound around Sirius's neck the same way they did when he was a toddler and Sirius carried him up to bed. The memory that they'd once gotten along was still thick in Sirius's throat when Regulus let him go and then Apparated away.

"What just happened?" Sirius muttered. He touched his cheek where Regulus's hair had just been brushing him a moment before. Had Regulus been about to defect? Had Sirius misjudged him all this time?

"Padfoot, hullo. Sorry, I'm late." Peter approached from behind, pushing his hand through his blond fringe. His hair stuck up terribly.

"It's all right," Sirius said, trying to shake off the meeting with his brother. "Shall we get on with it, then?"

Peter nodded ahead, and Sirius followed him, glancing back to the alley as they passed it. A skinny tabby in front of a fallen rubbish bin cleaned its paw.

* * * 

The smoke drifted off the balcony in tendrils the same way it curled over inert bodies on a battlefield. His feet dangled over the London street, the roads wet below him from the midnight rainstorm.

"Padfoot? Come back to bed." Remus rubbed at his eyes, Sirius's pajama bottoms loose around his hips and sagging in the middle. His hair stuck up on the side where he'd been sleeping, giving him a look as wind-swept as Prongs, but without all the effort. "You've been up long?"

"Mmm . . . didn't want to wake you. Couldn't sleep." He stubbed out the cig, leaving it on the damp balcony with the collection he'd started over the few hours. He hadn't exactly meant to take up smoking again, but after running into Regulus two weeks ago and then hearing nothing, he'd picked up a pack and started worrying through it fast enough that he'd finally told Moony about what had happened. Moony and no one else; he wasn't sure what the others would make of it.

Remus frowned, suddenly more awake than Sirius wanted him to be because he'd start putting things together. "We can tell Dumbledore."

Sirius closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the wrought iron railing. "And then what? Dumbledore puts it out to his network to keep an eye out for my brother? He's a Death Eater. They're already doing that."

"But they could be looking for him as an ally."

Sirius still wasn't positive that's what Regulus was, but he wasn't sure he was an enemy either. Regulus had said he knew he could trust Sirius, that Sirius was the only one he could trust. Did he just mean that he knew Sirius couldn't kill him? Or did he think—did he think Voldemort had spies in the Order?

"I don't want anyone else to know." He pulled himself up by the railing. His bare feet pressed against the wet concrete, toes wrapping the edge. The seat of his boxers was damp; he hadn't realized how wet it was when he sat down. "If it's true, if he's defecting, or what have you, no one can know until he's safe."

"I don't want to put him in danger," Remus whispered, "but the Order can help."

Sirius pressed his bitten lips together, the taste of blood leaking between the cracks. They'd had this conversation before. It was tired; Sirius was tired. "I can't take that risk."

"Sirius."

"Don't ask me to—" Sirius's throat closed around his words. He tried again, softer this time. "I have to do what I can to keep him safe. He's my brother." He can barely say the word in this context. This soft, protective uttering of "brother" was reserved for James, the man who has been his brother in every sense of the word since Sirius lost Regulus. But what if he hadn't lost him? 

Fingers tangled lightly in Sirius's hair but Remus didn't have an answer. Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus, pushing his face into Remus's shoulder, grateful that Remus was just as good without words.

* * *

It was a rare night in, when both Sirius and Remus were curled up on the couch, passing a take away container of curry between them, the wireless playing softly. For once they weren't worrying about the war. They were off-duty—Dumbledore had insisted they take a night for themselves, a subtle indication that he knew their relationship was more than friendship; he'd given the same concession to James and Lily, Alice and Frank, remembering on occasion that they were fighting _for_ something, not just _against_ something.

They'd gotten through half of the container when an owl tapped on the window. 

Remus pressed his foot against Sirius's thigh. "You're closer."

"I'm closer," Sirius agreed. He leaned over to kiss Remus's knee before passing back the curry and going to the window. He didn't recognize the nearly black owl, but that wasn't all that unusual. Peter had a tendency to vary which owls he used, and Mad-Eye switched Owl Post locations every few weeks—always random, he proclaimed, never work in a pattern!

Sirius opened the window and plucked the message off the owl's leg, getting a nip when he tried to scratch its head. "Bugger off, then," Sirius snapped just before the owl took flight. The parchment was slightly damp, the letters of his name blocked but there was something familiar about the fine strokes.

"Who's it for?" Remus adjusted, putting his feet on the table, the curry balanced between his knees.

"Me." He unfolded the letter, finally recognizing what was familiar about the writing. It was from his father.

"Sirius?" He barely heard Remus say his name, but he recognized the emotion in his voice, confusion interlaced with fear.

_Regulus has been missing for some weeks and certain connections have led the family to believe he is dead. There will be a memorial service Saturday, though we ask that you not attend. I'm sure you understand, son._

Son. The word hardly softened the news.

He was aware when Remus stood, that he was next to Sirius, at his shoulder, but the only thought Sirius could hold was that his brother was dead. Sirius didn't feel different, didn't feel some familial connection sever, didn't feel the loss of what might have been if Regulus had come with him instead of Apparating away from that pub nearly a month ago. But his death could have been weeks ago. It could have happened the same night he'd come to Sirius. Sirius could have been one of the last people to see Regulus alive.

"Someone could have known all this time," he muttered. While Sirius had been waiting for Regulus to contact him, someone could have known Regulus was already dead.

He snatched his wand off the mantel, forgetting to grab his boots as he ran out of the flat. He left the door banging shut and heard Remus call out a moment later, "Padfoot," but Sirius was halfway to the Apparation point and he wasn't stopping. 

There was an Order meeting in progress—James and Lily were on the cramped couch; Mad-Eye near the hearth, a fire crackling behind him; and the man Sirius wanted to see, Dumbledore, stood nearest the kitchen. Sirius gripped his wand tightly, his anger getting the better of him.

"Did you know?" His voice screeched and it didn't sound like him, so he shouted again, "Did you know he'd died? Did we do it?" He pointed his wand at Dumbledore and immediately James was between them, wand trained on Sirius like he was a Death Eater, like he was just another Black.

"Sirius, wait. Calm down, mate. What's going on?"

"He's dead!" Sirius yelled, the words finally meaning something for him. He'd never see his brother again. There was no reconciliation in their future. Regulus was gone. His stupid baby brother who'd been too afraid to follow in Sirius's footsteps was gone. He felt his face crumple, but he kept his wand steady; tears threatened, but did not fall.

James blanched; whispered, "Moony?"

Sirius glared at James. "My brother."

James sighed, his wand arm slacking, and Sirius punched him in the face. "You fucking asshole! You don't get to be relieved that it's just my _brother_!"

"Sirius!" Lily's voice barked and he spun to face her, taking in the shocked faces around him for the first time. There were a number of other wands trained on them, but nearly every face was sympathetic. They'd all lost people in this fucking war, Sirius knew that, but at that moment none of them understood.

"Sirius," Lily continued, her hands up and voice softer. "I am so sorry."

Sirius grabbed his hair with both hands, not losing his grip on his wand. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting Lily's sympathy, not wanting anyone's sympathy. He turned quickly, pointing his wand at Dumbledore again.

"Did you know? Who killed him? Did we?" Sirius's voice lost some of its anger. It was war. Deaths happened. James had killed a Death Eater nearly a year ago. The spell had been nonlethal, but the fall from the roof hadn't been. 

Dumbledore lowered his hands, speaking as calmly as ever. "I would have told you, Sirius. You deserve to know how he died, especially if it were at the hands of an ally."

Sirius's eyes flicked over the room, taking in the faces: the Prewetts, scarred and on their feet a few steps from Lily; Mad-Eye growling in the corner, his wand on Sirius; Hephestia, her face looking worn and gray. "None of them?" Sirius whispered. "None of us?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "It was not us, Sirius. And I am truly sorry for your loss."

Mad-Eye growled. "He was a Death Eater, Black. You lost him long ago."

"He was a kid," Lily snapped, and Mad-Eye's eye spun. "And you should show some regret that another child died in this horrible war." Lily's hands were warm on Sirius's shoulders and she turned him away from Dumbledore, towards the exit. James finally got to his feet, holding one hand to his bloody nose, the other around Sirius's shoulder.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "You know, I—"

Sirius closed his eyes, letting his friends guide him. "I know, Prongs."

Remus ran through the door, leaning on the frame and panting. "Sirius! What happened? You ran out so fast. Your feet—" He finally took in James, the silent room, and his voice took on something more like awe. "What happened?"

"Regulus," Lily supplied.

Remus stepped forward, taking Sirius from their arms and hugging him tightly. All the fight dropped out of him then and he just clung to his Moony, the tears finally falling.

* * *

Sirius never did right by him.

It wasn't true, not in the strictest sense, and some small part of Sirius knew that. But the larger part, the part that sounded like the disappointment of his parents—sounded like every time he let his fear get the better of him—believed that it was true. He'd never done right by Regulus, and now Regulus was dead. 

Gryffindor was Sirius's great surprise. He'd been certain he'd be sorted into Slytherin—he was a Black after all—so when the Hat suggested something else, he'd been confused, but quickly warmed to the idea because the notion that he might be something different was an appealing one. So he'd agreed without thinking, just like a Gryffindor. If only Regulus had made the same choice.

After, he'd said. After what? What had Regulus gone to do? Had that been what killed him? 

After the sorting ceremony, when Regulus had gone to sit with the Slytherins, he'd looked across the tables to Sirius. His face was a mix of shock and sadness. Sirius had looked away.

If Sirius had shut up and listened to his brother instead of baiting him, would Regulus still be alive?

In the halls of Hogwarts, Mother and Father couldn't be farther away. He could have found Regulus, been a better brother. They could have met up between classes, studied together. The lake, the forest, the hallways—those were common grounds between the houses and Sirius could have been a brother in those places.

Sirius should have been there for Regulus, and he wasn't.

Remus put his hand on Sirius's shoulder, flat and warm against his back. It was the only thing Sirius had really felt since he heard the news.

"We should go," Remus whispered. 

As requested, they weren't at the funeral, not really. Sirius stood at the edge of the graveyard with his half-blood boyfriend, wands drawn, as Sirius's family buried an empty casket. He could barely identify the mourners from this distance, but by body shape and posture Sirius picked out his parents; his cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa, the latter hugging her platinum blond Malfoy husband; and a handful of other suspected Death Eaters. Mad-Eye didn't know they'd come, neither did James or Peter for that matter, but Remus had known Sirius well enough to know he couldn't stay away. All he'd said was, "I'm coming with you." Sirius hadn't argued. He'd been afraid, too.

"A few more minutes."

He felt Remus tense—he obviously wanted to say no—but then he lowered his hand. "Andromeda isn't here, is she?"

Sirius shook his head. He probably should have invited her to come with them. She would have been good to have at his side during this. She was quick with a hex, too. Maybe her husband would have come.

"Padfoot," Remus whispered. It sounded like he was about to say more, but like all the other times, Remus seemed to know when he shouldn't speak.

The sun hid behind a haze of clouds, spring fighting against one last unseasonably late winter push. The watery light made all else feel unreal—too bright, too dark, too in between to be reality. The casket, a gray sleek slab, was visible just beyond the seated mourners. Sirius would read the headstone later, but he doubted "brother" had made it on the list of Regulus's attributes.

Sirius counted to one hundred, not letting himself think about anything other than the slow roll of digits. When he hit one hundred, he reached for Remus, tugging on his wrist gently. 

"We can go," he said softly. The mourners hadn't dispersed, but Sirius had done what he'd meant to do. The coffin was empty, anyway; it wasn't like Regulus would hear his apology.

Remus followed a step behind, giving Sirius distance until Sirius roughly took his hand and twined their fingers together. He imagined himself saying, "Need you," but the words wouldn't come from his mouth, so instead they walked together out of the graveyard, Sirius clinging to Remus's hand, daring anything to pull Remus from him, too. No more, Sirius promised himself. He'd lose no one else to this war.

* * *

As cold as the grave, that was a thing people said, wasn't it? The Potters' basement was cold, underground, too, so Sirius had to wonder if this sensation was what that idiom meant. He worried the edge of Remus's sheet between his fingers, trying not to follow that thought too deeply. He'd spent enough time the last five days thinking of graves and who did or didn't lie in them.

Remus finally roused, a gentle stirring that started in his eyebrows and worked its way down to his mouth. "Padfoot?"

Sirius launched himself from his vigil next to the cot, rolling forward and on to his knees. "Here, Moony." He leaned over to kiss Remus's temple, and then kissed his nose and lips too. It had been a hard moon for them both, Padfoot less playful and therefore less of a distraction. Usually their play kept Moony preoccupied and made the time tick by faster, but Padfoot's mood had rubbed off on Moony, making them both irritable. He'd had to wrestle Moony, pull Moony away from the basement window, boarded over for the moon but still leaking human scents. 

"Sore," Remus groaned.

"Not surprising." Sirius brushed Remus's sweat-slicked hair from his brow and then stopped Remus from rolling to his back. "Gash," he said simply, and Remus sighed heavily, allowing Sirius to help him roll without reopening the wound.

"You okay?" Sirius asked once he had Remus settled.

Remus nodded and then his eyes suddenly shifted, the post-wolf haze replaced with sharp focus. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Fine." The word was short and crisp, a dead giveaway.

A wry smile drifted on Remus's face. "That's usually my line."

"Thought I'd change it up." Sirius pulled the thin blankets higher up Remus's body. He was still naked under the sheets, and Sirius didn't want him to catch cold. He should have had the same worry for himself—he'd only pulled on his jeans.

"So many other things are changing." Remus's voice drifted, and for a moment Sirius thought he was falling asleep again, but then Remus snapped back, eyes wide open again. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." Sirius fussed with the blanket again, until it was practically under Remus's chin. 

"Sirius?"

"Just a minute." Sirius creaked open the locker at the base of the stairs. Their wands were still on the top shelf, along with a canteen of water. He grabbed their clothes, coming over with two stacks. "I know you probably don't want to move yet, but I could get your socks on you."

"My feet are fine."

"Not cold?"

"Not really. You have me tucked in pretty tightly."

"Too tight," Sirius translated. He pulled the covers back down, and before he could work the sheets free from the hospital corners, Remus seized his wrist.

"Padfoot. Just lie down with me a minute."

Sirius's eyes flicked to the pile of clothes and then back to the locker where he had some sticky buns for breakfast and then up to the door, still locked even though James and Lily must have already left for the day. Sirius had turned down their offer of a hot breakfast, not wanting to leave Remus alone in case he woke up early. He never did, but Sirius figured the one time he left Remus would be the time he woke up wondering where Sirius had gone.

Remus squeezed Sirius's wrist, drawing his attention finally to Remus's face.

"You don't want to lie down with your naked boyfriend?" A tease leaked into his voice and eyes, understanding beneath both that Sirius's indecision had little to do with Remus.

"You may be naked, but you haven't showered. I hadn't wanted to say anything." He crawled over Remus, settling on his side, bare back pressed against the cool concrete wall.

"I appreciate you suffering for me." Remus leaned his head into Sirius's shoulder. The cool, rocky smell of the basement clung to his hair, the earthy wolf musk hiding just underneath. He'd never confess it to Remus, but Sirius loved the way he smelled post-moon. 

He pressed a kiss into Remus's hair, trying to settle and focus just on this moment with Remus and nothing else.

Remus's eyelashes tickled Sirius's arm when they closed. 

His breath sounded unbelievably loud.

There wasn't really anything for Sirius to do. Nothing for his hands. No task occupying his thoughts. 

He had replayed his last conversation with Regulus so many times he'd started to lose a grip on what was reality and what was fantasy. He hadn't begged Regulus to trust him; Regulus had trusted him just by showing up. Regulus had been about to confess something to Sirius—he'd planned to talk to Sirius after. 

After what, Sirius would never know.

Fingers in his hair startled Sirius's eyes open. 

"You don't have to stay with me all morning. I'll be up and moving soon enough." Remus brushed all of Sirius's hair to the right side, flipping it over his head. "Getting so long."

"I can stay if you need me."

Remus shook his head gently, a sure sign he still wasn't feeling right. "I know you can, but you don't have to." He touched Sirius's lips, and Sirius responded with a kiss. "Sitting still isn't really your thing."

Sirius's mouth quirked in a coy smile, and part of it actually felt real. "You know me."

"So well," Remus agreed. "Leave me with whatever you rustled up for breakfast and my wand. I can take it from there."

"Are you sure?" Sirius hated leaving Remus so weak, but he was in James's house, it wasn't like anything would happen to him here.

"Padfoot, my Padfoot." His fingers drifted on Sirius's face, coaxing him down for a kiss. The soft claim, the gentle kiss—everything about Remus Lupin made Sirius's skin sing. One day he'd tell him. One day when he could actually focus on Remus and be the boyfriend he deserved, Sirius would tell him just how he felt.

"I'll be back to check on you," he promised before gathering the things Remus wanted and dressing for the day. He was grateful Remus understood that sitting around doing nothing would eventually kill him.

* * *

His fist connected with Avery's nose, making a satisfying pop. Blood flecked his knuckles, but Sirius didn't care because—after days—he was finally _doing_ something.

"Shit!" Avery grabbed his nose, pushing Sirius back with his other hand. "What's the matter with you, Black? Can't you fight like a wizard?"

He couldn't, actually, not in the middle of a Muggle pub. "Shut it, unless you're going to tell me about my brother."

Avery blinked, perhaps expecting a different question. Sirius wasn't supposed to engage—he'd been following Avery for the Order, but the longer he watched Avery, the more he remembered times Avery had pulled Regulus aside, eaten lunch beside him, studied together. As far as Sirius knew, Avery had been one of Regulus's closest friends. 

"He's dead. End of story."

Sirius pushed Avery against the wall, threatening with his fist again. He didn't need the reminder. 

"Outside!" The barman yelled. He pointed a stern finger, and as ineffectual as that seemed, Sirius took a step back from Avery. 

Sirius straightened Avery's collar, his eyes locked on the barman, daring him to yell again. "It's not the end of the story," he muttered.

"He was my friend," Avery said. He shoved Sirius's hands away, but made no movement to the door. Wise. He was safer inside where Sirius couldn't draw his wand, and Sirius had already expended the one free hit the barman allowed. "You think you're the only one who's angry about what happened?"

Yes, Sirius thought, but he didn't think it would help him to say it. "Then maybe you'd like to figure out what happened."

Avery spat, blood still trickling from his nose. "I'm angry, not stupid. You ask, you're next. I don't know who killed him, and I don't want to know. I just want to make it through this alive."

Sirius scoffed, deep in his throat, sniffing out a weak link. "Quite a backbone you've got there."

"Yeah, well, we weren't all sorted to Gryffindor, were we?"

Sirius pulled a fist back, ready to punch him again and get tossed out, but a hand on his shoulder stopped his momentum, and the voice that came with it froze him. 

"We should talk," Remus said. "Hullo, Avery. Haven't seen you in a long time."

"Lupin." Avery pushed himself away from the corner, tugging on the hem of his coat. He opened his mouth, looking like he might say something else and then thought better of it, tipped his hand to his forehead and sidestepped around them.

Sirius moved to follow, but Remus blocked his path. 

"I said we should talk."

"I'm supposed to be following him."

"And not being seen, I'd wager. What the hell happened?"

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, watching from the corner of his eye as Avery slipped out the door and passed the front windows. The mission was a wash, even without Remus's intervention. Sirius had bollocksed this one. He swallowed.

"It's not like we don't know Avery's a Death Eater."

Remus led Sirius to a table, pulling him into a seat and continuing to hold his wrist, their hands on top of the table. "There's a difference between knowing and having proof. You were supposed to help build a case against him."

"Wait, what are _you_ doing here? Did Dumbledore send you to _watch_ me?" 

Remus cocked his head. "I don't think now is the time to be offended—"

Sirius leaned over the table, catching the guilt in Remus's eye. "No. You were following me for you." He pulled his wrist from Remus's grip. "You don't trust me."

"Sirius." Remus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "You're grieving. I knew who you were set to follow. I _know_ you."

Sirius hadn't known he'd go after Avery. He'd meant to follow him as he was told. He hadn't even thought about what Avery might know until he started thinking about Avery's friendship with Regulus, how he must have encouraged him, recruited him. How did Remus know him so well? "James knows me. I don't see James here."

The bloke at the table behind Remus cleared his throat, turned, and removed his hat. "Sorry, mate." James at least had the decency to look guilty. Possibly guiltier when Sirius leaned to the side and realized Peter was his tablemate. Peter, on the other hand, raised a pint to Sirius.

"Hullo, Padfoot," Peter greeted. 

Sirius shook his head and crossed his arms. "Traitors. The lot of you."

"We're not traitors. We care about you." Remus rubbed his arm. "We didn't want to see you get hurt."

"I'm not going to get hurt from Avery." He grumbled, but moved easily when Remus pulled him to the empty seats at James and Peter's table. "We're in a Muggle pub and Avery's not worth anything in a fist fight."

"And you have a mean right hook." James rubbed his jaw, ghosting the reminder of when Sirius had knocked him to the ground two weeks ago. Merlin, had it only been two weeks since Sirius found out Regulus was dead? Had he really spent two weeks without a brother?

"I know you want answers," Remus said softly. "I think you should have them."

Sirius arched an eyebrow. "Then why are you stopping me from beating the snot out of Avery."

Remus's mouth twisted to the side and his brow furrowed. "Because Avery clearly has no idea what happened and isn't about to stick his nose in anywhere to find out."

"Avery's spineless," James agreed. "He's a dead end."

"He was Reg's friend," Sirius argued.

"And he's scared to put his neck out there because—apparently—a Death Eater killed his friend." Peter's voice was more hushed than the others, a hint of fear creeping in. Maybe Peter was starting to grasp the gravitas of what Sirius was proposing. 

"There are other avenues," Remus insisted.

Sirius shook his head. "Dumbledore isn't going to spend time investigating the murder of a Death Eater." He hated categorizing Regulus like that—not now, not after what he knew—but that was how the Order would frame it, and they weren't wrong. Not entirely.

"We don't need the Order to spend time doing anything. We need information they've already gathered." Remus tapped the table. "Was anyone watching Regulus?" With that one question, Sirius understood: Remus's pragmatism was one of his best traits.

"No idea," Sirius said. He looked to the others. "Anyone?"

James shrugged and traced a circle on the tabletop. "We weren't assigned, but that doesn't mean someone else wasn't. We can ask around. I'm seeing the Prewetts later tonight. They're usually well informed."

Sirius pressed his fingers to his brow, feeling a little overwhelmed by his friends' willingness to dive in. Why had he ever believed they wouldn't understand? They'd all stood by Remus when they found out he was a werewolf. They'd become illegal animagi together. They'd actually helped James woo Lily. He should have known they'd stand by him when he needed them.

* * *

"Sorry, mate." Pete dropped on to the couch next to Sirius. He'd availed himself of one of the butterbeers in the fridge before delivering the bad news. His inquiry at Slug & Jiggers Apothecary had come up dry. Regulus _had_ been in a week before Sirius had seen him, but he'd purchased standard potion ingredients, nothing that would identify what he might have been brewing and nothing that would have gotten him into any trouble. It was a dead end, just like Obscurus Books and Quality Quidditch Supplies, and every other location Marlene had said Regulus had visited. They were running out of leads.

"I know you want answers," Peter continued, "but is this really worth it? We might never know what happened to him."

"I have to know." Sirius growled and then stood up to pace. "I know this isn't going to be easy, but I can't just—I mean, I won't— _someone_ knows something!" Voldemort, Sirius thought bitterly, but he wasn't about to suggest the Marauders go after him.

"Yeah, maybe someone knows something, but what then?" Peter set the bottle on the coffee table and hunched forward, his hair shading his eyes from Sirius's view. "What are you planning to do once you know what happened?"

Sirius stopped and turned away slowly, feigning that he was only changing the direction of his pacing. "I'll know," he said, completely dodging the question.

"Right, because the pursuit of knowledge is your only goal."

Sirius went into the kitchen to avoid Peter's judgment. He opened the refrigerator and stared at the stacks of take-away containers, half-empty milk, and rows of butterbeers before finally grabbing a bottle just to have something to do with his hands.

"I haven't thought that far," he lied. 

"Bullshit." The closeness of Peter's voice startled him. He hadn't heard Peter follow him into the kitchen, but there he was, leaning against the edge of the table, his arms crossed. Sneaky bastard. 

"No shit," Sirius countered.

"Sirius." Peter leveled him with a stare. "What are you going to do to the person who killed Regulus?"

Sirius took a long drink of the butterbeer, swallowing it down slowly. He had barely admitted the desire to himself, a thought born when he'd punched Avery in the face and felt good about it. He hadn't wanted to tell anyone else, but there was something in Peter's question—maybe the abruptness of it—that encouraged Sirius to answer. "I'm going to return the favor."

Peter nodded. "Good. You should." He pushed away from the table and went back to the living room, leaving Sirius to chase after him in bewilderment. "If you need help with that, let me know. James won't approve, and I doubt Remus will either, but I'm in." 

Sirius gaped like an immobilized pixie. Since when had Wormtail gained such confidence? Where had Sirius been looking when Peter matured? When did Pete decide to go against what _James_ wanted?

"Thanks, mate," Sirius stammered.

"I don't know why the Order isn't doing more to help you. It's shite. You'll be going after a Death Eater, anyway, right? Could do with less of them."

Sirius leaned against the wall. He'd talked himself through this one a few times, so he already knew the score. "It's over the line. I get that, and I get that the Order shouldn't be involved. This is personal—has nothing to do with the war."

"Everything has to do with the war." Peter sat back in the chair, putting his feet up. The sole of his shoe was gummed with a wet leaf.

The war was inseparable from their lives these days, but Sirius wasn't about to fool himself about the difference between being a soldier and being a killer. 

"I'll come to you if I need help," Sirius promised. 

Peter nodded, but he seemed disappointed somehow. Nothing had changed in his posture or even in his expression; it was more like Sirius smelled it in the air. Sirius couldn't work out what had happened, but at least he knew he had someone in his corner when he finally went on the hunt.

* * *

"Patience." James didn't look up from his Quidditch magazine when Sirius returned with another round of drinks.

"I'm being patient." Sirius arranged each mug so the handles were perfectly parallel—James's to his right and Sirius's on his left, exactly aligned for their handedness.

"Yes, you seem very patient and relaxed." James turned the page, Dash Brighton winking from the center spread of the 1979–1980 Magpies.

Sirius glanced over his shoulder, checking the door again. It had a bell over it, but the pub was loud, the wireless blaring out a Quidditch game and wizards whooping or hissing every call; he easily could have missed the door opening and depositing Moony and Wormtail.

"Enjoy the game. Magpies are already up by ninety, and no one's spotted the Snitch yet."

Sirius slowly turned back around to James. Their friends were late. They were just up the road, but they were at a pub in Knockturn Alley and they were late. "How can you possibly be listening to a Quidditch game with everything else going on in our lives?"

James looked up from the mag and hefted his ale. "Enjoying a match with my best mate kind of seems more important now. We haven't hung out like this in ages."

Sirius stared at James's ale a moment, letting his words sink in before belatedly agreeing. "We haven't." He clinked James's glass and took a hearty swig, either the alcohol or James's nonchalance finally settling some of his nerves. "It's all Order business and wives."

"And boyfriends," James quickly added. 

"Moony doesn't take up my time like that."

"He does," James argued. "I tried making plans with you and you said you had to check with Moony."

"We live together."

"I invited both of you!" James laughed. "Oi, I get it. You want alone time with him. Especially now."

Sirius shifted in his chair, turning his glass all the way around and then all the way back, winding and unwinding his own tension. Death could part them at any moment these days. The thought was frequently on his mind, but he wasn't sharing that around. "That's not the same as being married."

"I didn't say it was." James took another drink, his smug eyebrows dancing over the edge of his glasses and into his hair. Sirius wasn't rising to that silent bait.

"I'm not trying to tease you," James said after setting down his pint. "I like how you look out for each other. Remus is good for you." He looked down, twisting his glass one way and then the other; Sirius almost smiled to see his own nervous habits on James. "I was a real ass when you first got the news."

Sirius looked away. He didn't need to ask what news James meant.

"But Remus wasn't. He was there for you in the ways I used to be—"

A cheer went up from the crowd—Magpies must have scored again.

Sirius put his hand over James's. "Shut it," he said. "You're still my brother. Just—stop embarrassing yourself, Prongs." Sirius leaned over and pretended to wipe a tear from James's cheek. 

James rolled his eyes, pulling back from Sirius's hands. "Right, all right." He drank from his glass again, but Sirius caught James watching, checking to make sure things really were all right. They were—Sirius knew they were—but it was nice to know that for all of James's confidence, he still needed to check in with Sirius.

James's eyes darted to the side, and then he did a double take, quickly swallowing his ale. Sirius followed his eyes and practically jumped out of his seat.

"What took you?" Sirius asked.

Remus looked over their table, his finger wagging between the two glasses. "Peter isn't back?"

"You weren't back. We thought you'd be here twenty minutes ago." Sirius assessed him: worried look, not quite panicked, no visible wounds—Sirius sighed in relief. As much as he'd been hoping Remus and Peter would return with news from their dark wizard pub crawl, he'd been more worried about them making it out of there alive.

"We got separated. There was a private room of some interest and Peter thought he could get closer if he changed." Remus wiggled his nose, as if Prongs and Padfoot hadn't followed what he meant. "I waited, but he didn't come back. I thought I might have missed him leaving if he couldn't change back." Remus rubbed his brow. "Shite. I thought he'd be here."

"It's harder to keep track of time when you're a rat." Sirius grabbed Remus's wrist and dragged him into an empty chair. "We can go look for him."

Remus sighed. "James could go look for him. I spotted Bellatrix. She didn't see me," he quickly reassured them. Sirius doubted Bellatrix had ever taken note of Remus. She tended to look right through anyone who wasn't pureblood. "You don't think she would have recognized Peter, do you?"

Sirius scoffed. "Not a chance." 

"Let's give him a minute first," James reasoned. "Wormtail's not one to get himself into trouble. He probably just hasn't had a good opportunity to change back. Remember that time Padfoot was stuck as a dog all night in Hogsmeade?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It was four hours, not all night. And I _like_ being a dog, remember?"

"I think Peter likes being a rat," Remus said carefully. He stole a sip from Sirius's drink, but returned it to the same position Sirius had placed it, so Sirius didn't complain. "You're sure it's wise to wait?" With the alcohol in his system, Remus's cheeks had a bit more color, but his hair stuck to his forehead, his worry for Peter showing through.

"For a bit. If he doesn't show soon, we'll figure out something." Uncertainty leaked into James's voice, but either Remus bought the act or didn't notice. 

Sirius squeezed Remus's wrist. "I'll get you a drink."

Remus started to get up, and Sirius could see the protest on his lips, his insistence to pay his own way occasionally, but this wasn't about Remus's pride or Sirius's generosity. 

Sirius laid his hand on Remus's shoulder, gently guiding him back to his seat. "Gives me something to do," he told Remus. Their eyes met and Remus relaxed into his chair, relenting once again that what Sirius needed most was to be doing something. Idleness didn't sit well with him on the best of days, but now it was even worse. Every second he wasn't moving was a second he was wasting, a second he could be doing something to get closer to Regulus's murderer.

He glanced back at James, realizing belatedly that any chance they'd had of enjoying the match as best mates was gone. 

Sirius leaned over the counter while he waited for Remus's drink, and jerked towards the sound of the bell ringing. Peter stumbled through, wide-eyed and looking a bit rumpled, but otherwise he was in one piece. Sirius moved to him and clapped Peter in a hug, the emotion seizing him without warning.

"Glad you're all right, mate," he muttered.

Peter stepped back, a confused look on his face. "'Course I'm fine." He straightened out his clothes and nodded his chin at the bar. "Could use a drink if you're buying. I heard something interesting."

Sirius's hands tightened on Peter's shoulders. "Wormtail." 

"Drink," he said, eyes casting around, reminding Sirius of where they were. 

Sirius took a step back. "We've got a table. You'll find us." He watched Peter pick his way through the crowd and ordered another drink, carrying both back to the table a few minutes later. "Did I miss anything?" Sirius asked without preamble.

"Just a recap of what Pete went through." James clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder. "It sounded truly Marauder-worthy."

"The first among us," Sirius said, gesturing for more of the story to come out. He cared Peter and Remus had made it out of there unharmed, but he was less concerned about the particulars of the events than he was concerned about what Peter had overheard. "What happened?" he pressed.

Peter took a long drink and then wiped his mouth with the heel of his hand. "Overheard Rosier talking with a bloke I didn't recognize."

"No name?" James asked.

"Didn't catch it, but it doesn't matter anyway." Peter took another long drink, further wearing Sirius's thin patience. 

"This was dumb luck, complete dumb luck," he said once he'd surfaced from his ale. He took another breath and then leaned in, the others mimicking his position. "Rosier was saying something about Wilkes _proving_ himself. Said he took care of a problem for You-Know-Who. Sealed a leak." Peter locked eyes with Sirius. "He said some pureblood lines deserved to end."

Sirius pushed back, snarling. 

Remus put both hands out, one on Sirius's shoulder, but Sirius slapped him away. He didn't need Remus to calm him down, he needed Moony to help him tear out Wilkes's throat.

"You're sure he meant Regulus?" James kept his head ducked forward, ignoring the groan from the Quidditch fans.

"We can check with the Order to find out if any other wizards or witches have gone missing who might match the description, but the timing. . . ." Peter shook his head and shrugged—he had made his opinion known, and Sirius happened to agree with it.

"Where can I find Wilkes?"

"Sirius," Remus admonished. Peter's open mouth snapped shut, apparently he was as chastened as Sirius felt. "We need to follow up on this. Confirm Wilkes even did it and isn't just taking credit to bolster his reputation."

James sat back, nodding. "You know how he was in school." 

Yes, Sirius did know how he was in school. Wilkes was among the group of future Death Eaters who had crowded around Regulus and groomed him to join their ranks. His parents had approved of those friendships while maligning Sirius for befriending James, Remus, and Peter. 

"It makes sense. He was friends with Regulus—or as friends as that slime could be with anyone. He'd have been able to get close to him."

Remus's warm hand closed around Sirius's arm. "Think, Pads," he whispered. "Regulus said you were the only person he could trust. Why would he let Wilkes get close to him?"

"To keep his cover!" A cry for the Magpies masked Sirius's outrage.

"All Remus is suggesting is that we check this out." James leaned forward again, his hands flat on the table. "Wilkes isn't going anywhere."

Sirius looked between his boyfriend and his best mate. "Wilkes is going anywhere he wants. Right now he's out there." Sirius pointed to noisy Diagon Alley, envisioning Wilkes walking by, his slithering Death Eater tattoo covered by a shirtsleeve. "He's free, and my brother is dead."

"Maybe they're right, Sirius." Peter's voice was soft, barely carrying under the cheers for the game. "Maybe we just need to slow down. Ask some more questions. Make sure I didn't mishear."

"You didn't mishear," Sirius growled. He couldn't believe Peter was siding with them. And after he'd promised Sirius he'd have his back. 

Sirius looked to the others, hard glares for them both. "I'm not wrong about this." He stood up and cleared his tab, paying for all of their drinks before leaving. He'd find Wilkes on his own if he had to.

* * *

"Padfoot." Remus wasn't far behind him getting home from the pub, but he'd taken long enough that Sirius had already shut off the lights and gotten into bed. Sirius was in no mood to listen to more scolding, but after seven years sharing a dorm, Remus knew when Sirius was feigning sleep. Sirius pulled the covers higher over his shoulder and hoped Remus would take the hint.

Remus's presence was a specter on the edge of Sirius's mind, his warm heat filling the doorway. Sirius could sense Remus shift and felt him deciding what to say. 

"Stop it," Sirius muttered, still facing away.

"Taking off my shirt? Fine, but you're doing the wash when I sweat all night." The bed sagged when Remus sat on the end. He didn't touch Sirius, which encouraged Sirius to roll over, peering at Remus from just over the edge of his pillow.

"You know I don't mean your shirt."

"Of course you don't mean my shirt, but if you'd rather me stop something I haven't even started, I thought it was better to avoid the subject all together." Remus bent to pull off his socks and then shifted to slide his belt from the belt loops. He dropped both on the floor, but Sirius knew they'd be picked up before the morning. "How are you?"

Sirius twisted his lips, not entirely confident where Remus was headed with this strategy. "Angry."

Remus nodded and leaned back, supporting his weight with his arms behind him. "I'm not surprised. Why are you angry?"

Sirius scoffed. "Do I have to pick just one reason?"

"How about you start with one?"

"You're too cautious."

Remus nodded again. "That's fair." He lay back, arranging himself on his side next to Sirius, his hands tucked under his chin. "Want to name another reason?"

"Wilkes killed my brother."

Remus's brown eyes were soft and understanding. Sirius had difficulty being angry when Remus was looking at him like that, so willing to understand, but he had a lot of anger stored. 

"My best mates don't understand what I'm going through." The words were the chewed, jagged edges of Sirius's real anger. He'd thought they had understood, at least in part, but now—now Sirius knew he was alone in all this.

Remus wet his lips, a flash of tongue poking out. "No, we don't." He offered Sirius his hand. His fingers were pale in the soft light from the window, his face half masked in shadow, making the few scars more prominent. "I've been trying to understand, but it's complicated."

Complicated was an understatement. Grieving Regulus wasn't new, but not having a possible future in which things could be different was. Maybe as a werewolf Remus had some idea of what that was like.

He took Remus's hand. He had difficulty not taking Remus's hand, even when he was angry with him, but the concept that Remus had really been trying to understand what Sirius was going through had dulled his anger.

Remus tightened his grip on Sirius. "I'm sorry I'm moving too slowly for you."

Sirius sighed, annoyed with himself and annoyed with Remus for being reasonable and for making Sirius be more reasonable. "You want me to be careful."

"I do," Remus said softly. "I don't want you to get hurt." He lowered his eyes. "I don't want you to think you know the answer and later find out you were wrong."

Sirius wrapped an arm around Remus and pulled himself closer to his boyfriend, pulling Remus into a hug Sirius sort of thought he should be receiving. But Remus was better with words and Sirius was better with touch. It was part of why they worked so well together.

"What if I promise not to get hurt?"

"That's not really a promise any of us can make." Remus hugged Sirius back hard, burying his face in Sirius's neck. It felt good to have Remus tucked so close, to have a quiet moment between the two of them, hidden away in their bed, outside of the war.

"I want to make that promise to you," Sirius whispered. He was thinking of other promises too, all the things he hadn't yet said to Remus.

"I would make that promise to you, if I could." Remus's lips pressed against Sirius's neck, as good a promise as either of them could make.

Sirius took a deep breath, swallowing the last of his anger at Remus. "So, how long will it take if we do things the slow way?"

Remus's arms squeezed around Sirius. "James is already talking to the Order. We're hoping someone was following Wilkes the day your brother disappeared."

"That assumes Regulus went missing on the last day I saw him."

"James is asking about the month after, too." Remus pulled back to look Sirius in the eye. "Trust us, Pads, we want to help. And we want to make sure you have the _right_ answer. Rosier could have been lying, Peter might have misheard, or even just misinterpreted. We're following up, confirming. That's all." 

"Not doing things is driving me mad." Patience, truly, was not his strength.

Remus chuckled softly and petted Sirius's back in long gentle strokes. "Just give James and me a few days to ask some questions."

"A few days," Sirius agreed. "And then we go for Wilkes." 

Remus's hand stilled, but then he sighed and repeated Sirius, "And then we go for Wilkes."

Sirius kissed his cheek, happy enough with the resigned agreement, and then pulled at the back of Remus's shirt. "Get undressed and get in bed."

Remus chuckled and darted in to peck Sirius's lips. "Give me a minute to use the loo. I promise I won't be long."

"And then bed."

"And then bed," Remus confirmed, his voice much more confident this time. He slipped off the bed, shucking his jeans as he left. His thin boxers clung to his hips, his shirttail riding up in the back. His Remus was a gorgeous thing at the most unexpected of times. And he was loyal in ways Sirius didn't always understand. Snarling defense, fierce love, growled words thrown at an aggressor—that was Sirius's loyalty. But Remus was quieter, ordered, confirmation of doubt, a steady hand at the rudder, a true cartographer. Sirius only hoped that Remus's loyalty would allow him to accept what Sirius had to do. He hoped that after this business was ended, that all of the Marauders would be willing to accept Sirius back into the fold.

* * *

Sirius nodded his chin when he saw Peter enter the pub. James had owled them all and told them to meet up. He'd talked to the Prewetts and had something about "the situation," as he called it. God bless the Prewetts and their ability to tail Death Eaters. After three days of James and Remus playing tag with Order members, Sirius was about at his wits end.

"He's at Caliginous," Peter said by way of greeting. "That pub on the river. Now." 

"He's—Wilkes?" Sirius put his beer down, his feet stuttering forward even though he was still seated. "You saw him?"

"Saw him alone." Peter balled his fist on the table, leaning closer to Sirius. "Go. I'll stall Remus and James."

Sirius opened his mouth, but he wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't actually sure what to _do_. He'd been prepared for information, for having a pint with his friends. Was he really ready to kill Wilkes? 

He looked to the abandoned drink next to him. Remus had just gone to the loo; it was pure luck Peter had appeared when Sirius was alone. Remus would want to know where he'd gone. Shit, how could they explain where Sirius had gone?

"Sirius. Go now." 

Now. The word cut through everything else and Sirius stood. "He was alone?"

"When I left him he was. If it's not when you get there. . . ." Peter didn't need to finish the sentence. If Wilkes wasn't alone, Sirius might die. The thought almost made him ask for Peter's help, but—but he couldn't put anyone else in danger. He was grateful for his friends' support, but he was the only one who should be responsible for this revenge. Regulus was his brother, and Sirius had left him to face the Slytherins alone, left him to be recruited by Voldemort, not let him speak when he'd come to Sirius for help. He hadn't trusted his brother when he should have. This was the only way Sirius could atone.

"Right. Caliginous. Right. Tell Remus I—" Sirius didn't have a lie, so he just shrugged and hoped Remus wouldn't be too clever when he came back from the loo. "Caliginous," Sirius repeated again and then ran for the door. 

While a floo was closer than the nearest Apparation point, Sirius couldn't remember if Caliginous had a connection. He turned for the Apparation point, hurrying along the street but trying not to run. He didn't need anyone to notice him—not to mention he needed a moment to decide what to do. Stunner spell? Disarm him, restrain him, and then talk to him? Announce himself and then cut off Wilkes' wand arm? The last seemed a bit overdramatic, but Sirius had practiced the line when Remus wasn't home: "I may be disowned, but Reg is still my brother." 

He'd pictured it several times, first as a nameless Death Eater, and then with Wilkes's pathetic, simpering face begging Sirius not to kill him. Sirius would ask what had happened to Regulus, where his body was, and Wilkes would tell him, tears in his eyes and blood staining his robes. Sirius never followed the fantasy to its conclusion, to finding Regulus's body and taking him to his grave, but that was the end game, that was the goal. It wouldn't make anything right, but at least there would be one less empty hole in Sirius's life.

He almost walked past the Apparation point, as deep in thought as he was. He didn't leave himself much time to think, queuing and then leaving as quickly as possible, Caliginous sharp in his mind.

He arrived in a pop, stepping to the left as he so often did. For a moment he was disoriented, the dark colors of the building shading Caliginous like the pub he'd just left. Even more confusing was that Remus was coming towards him.

"Sirius." His voice was as pinched as his face, worry creasing his brow. How had Remus gotten here so fast? How had he known?

"Did Wormtail tell you?"

"I heard you when I came back to the table. Sirius, please. We're supposed to meet with James. Please." Remus approached slowly, his hands up and open. "Please."

"He's _here_. In there." Sirius suddenly put it together, realizing how Remus had arrived before him. "Did you see him? You flooed in, didn't you?"

Remus sighed and nodded. "Yes, I saw him."

"Did you warn him off?" Anguish leeched into Sirius's words. More than the thought of losing his quarry, he hated the idea that Remus might have been the one to send a Death Eater into safety.

"No," Remus said, his voice suddenly hard. "I didn't speak to him or signal him or anything else. I came out here to meet you. Don't do this."

"He killed my brother."

"We _think_ he killed your brother."

The doubt wounded him, even though he'd known Remus's stance. 

"Sirius, please. Let's go back. Find out what James knows." Remus held out his hand, his long fingers an invitation. He'd left his jacket at the other pub, his t-shirt (one of Sirius's, actually) hanging from thin shoulders. Even though it was nearly May, he had to be cold. "Padfoot," he whispered, his voice so broken that Sirius finally understood that Remus knew his plan, even if Sirius hadn't yet figured out the details. He'd thought to keep it from Remus at least until after the fact, but Remus had known and Remus had helped him all this time. Remus had known he'd been helping Sirius plan a murder, and he'd helped him all the same because Remus supported him in ways Sirius was only just beginning to understand.

"Moony. What if this is my only chance?"

"It won't be," Remus promised. "If it's true. If James is meeting us with proof that Wilkes is guilty, I will help you find him again."

Sirius's hand twitched towards Remus's open palm. He still wasn't certain if he should take it. It was a lot to ask of anyone and he'd already tried to make a murderer of Remus once, when he was being stupid and selfish and sixteen. Not that twenty was feeling that much more mature.

But Remus was offering—Remus was pledging. Remus would help Sirius find Wilkes again, if Wilkes was the one who needed to be found.

He took Remus's hand, squeezing hard. "Together?"

The tension slackened from Remus's face and he pulled Sirius towards him, enveloping him in a hug. "Always together," Remus whispered in his ear. 

Sirius swallowed hard, hugging Remus back, afraid that he was letting Wilkes go, but finally feeling one taught rope of his anger loosen.

* * *

Peter shook his head. "I can't believe it."

"Can't believe what?" Sirius's glass was nearly drained and he was contemplating another one. He probably shouldn't, it would be his fourth, but he was having some trouble caring. It had been a week since he hadn't killed Wilkes. A week since James had come back with inconclusive information from the Prewetts. The Prewetts had tailed Wilkes for weeks—had actually seen him with Regulus once, three weeks before Regulus had come to Sirius. They had followed Wilkes the last day Sirius had seen Regulus, and the week following. They could account for nearly every move in that time frame, but Fabian had been injured and they'd lost three days of surveillance while he recovered. Maybe Wilkes didn't do it, but he could have. It wasn't the kind of evidence that would encourage Remus to help Sirius find Wilkes again. And they hadn't had any other leads, on Wilkes or anyone else. Worse yet, Dumbledore had sent Remus off to parlay with a pack of werewolves and see where they stood concerning Voldemort. 

"That you're giving up."

Sirius wanted to deny it, but without other leads he didn't know how to keep searching for Regulus's killer. Maybe he'd never know what happened to Regulus. Maybe making the effort would be enough to atone for the way he'd mistreated him.

"We can still find Wilkes. Thanks to the Prewetts we know where he goes, when he goes there. We can find him again."

Sirius finished the dregs of his drink and signaled the bartender for another. "We could, but it doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter? He's a _Death Eater_."

"Yeah? And it's a shitty war and enough people will die. Maybe Wilkes will die, but I'm not killing him in cold blood."

"It's not cold blood." Something dark leeched into Peter's voice, causing Sirius to eye him carefully. Peter hunched over his glass, still nearly full and only his second drink. The skin under his eyes was discolored and dark, like he hadn't been sleeping much, and his face had a waxy look Sirius had never noticed before. He nervously brushed his hair from his forehead, the strands darker now than they were when they'd all bunked together at Hogwarts. 

"It's not right." Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Did he do something to you? You seem eager to have me kill him."

The look washed from Peter's face. He lifted his chin, the light hitting his face and filling in the dark circles, taking the war years from his face. "I'm tired of the war. The fewer Death Eaters there are out there, the better it is for us."

A new drink hit the bar in front of Sirius and he raised it first to the bartender and then to Pete. "Aye, I'll agree to that." They both drank, though Peter's sip was much smaller than Sirius's.

"You think Remus would agree to it?"

The question was quiet enough that it took Sirius a moment to confirm that was what he had actually heard, but nothing else made sense. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing," Peter said. He dropped a few galleons on the bar, so quickly he must have already had them in his palm. "Think that should cover our tab."

"I can pay for my own drinks."

"Sure." Peter clapped Sirius on the back. "But let me tonight. I like paying for a mate I know I can trust."

Sirius squinted, looking up at Peter and piecing together the last few sentences. "Do you think you can't trust _Remus_?" Even if Sirius wasn't sleeping with him, he couldn't imagine a more trustworthy person. Even James, Sirius thought, when it came down to it, Sirius would trust Remus before James. He already had for so many other things; it was one of those things that happened when you lived with someone, fucked him, and loved him.

"It's not that I don't trust him, but he didn't exactly have your back on this." Peter ducked his head, beady eyes boring into Sirius. "You get that, don't you? That Remus talked you out of what you wanted to do?"

Sirius blinked, the alcohol fogging his brain. He hadn't really _wanted_ to kill Wilkes—except for the fact that he had. And Sirius did eventually do exactly what Remus wanted. Reluctantly. 

"It wasn't like that."

"Wasn't it?" 

Peter left soon after that, but his question lingered in Sirius's thoughts, rolling around in his alcohol-soaked brain. Wasn't that what had happened? Sirius had been set to confront Wilkes and Remus _had_ talked him out of it. It wasn't the first time Remus had stopped him from hurting a Death Eater, either. This time Sirius could understand, but the previous time had been in the heat of battle while Sirius was injured—he'd been fighting for his life.

Sirius shook his head, pushing the glass away from him. He was drunk and he was letting other people's questions get to him. Sirius knew Remus inside and out. Sirius trusted Remus.

Of course he did.


End file.
